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“No.” An ache stabbed my chest at the hurt in his expression.

“Decided, what?” Wenzhi demanded. I had not told him how I ended things with Liwei, the false things I had said of us.

“He is unworthy of you,” Liwei said forcefully.

“I could say the same of you.” Wenzhi uncoiled his legs and rose to his feet. “You, who gave her up to wed another. A fool’s choice, something I will never do.”

“You just wanted her on your own terms.” Liwei stalked closer, his movements stiff with anger. “Are you even capable of love, or is it just possession you are after?”

“What exists between Xingyin and me is none of your concern. Look to your own faults before you imagine mine.” Wenzhi’s face hardened. “What kind of life did you intend to offer her? Did you think she would be happy in the Jade Palace with the Celestial Court? Would you have fastened a leash on her, turning her into an ornament for your life when you would never have deigned to become part of hers? You are not strong enough to do—to surrender—what it will take for her happiness.”

I laughed in disbelief as I rounded on Wenzhi. “You locked me up. You took away my power. You tried to impose your will upon me, and you dare speak of my happiness?”

“Yes, I did all that, and I was wrong,” Wenzhi answered fiercely. “A part of me knew it then, but I was selfish and afraid. I did not want to lose you. I wanted us to have a chance together, away from all else. From him.” He turned his back to Liwei, closing the distance between us, speaking to me alone. “But I have looked into the mirror since, and not liked what I saw. I have changed, if you would only see that. If you can believe he will not hurt you again—why not me?”

“Because what you did was unforgivable,” I said bitterly. “It does not matter whether you’ve changed or not, nothing can change what you were, what you did, and what you destroyed.”

He flinched like I had struck him, but his gaze remained steel bright. “Then let’s build something new together.”

“Enough with these lies.” Liwei’s tone was harsh with scorn.

As his long fingers clamped over Wenzhi’s shoulder, Wenzhi seized his wrist and flung it off, swinging around to face Liwei. “Try it again if you dare, Your Highness. I fought my first battle while you were studying calligraphy and painting.”

“Your lessons were sorely lacking in many regards,” Liwei flung back as his hand went around the hilt of his sword.

I moved swiftly between them. “Enough. We are not the enemy.”

They glared at each other, finally stepping apart. Liwei looked at me, his unspoken question hanging between us—how could he not wonder after what he had seen? I could have claimed confusion or remorse. He would have accepted them without question, yet we all deserved better, for such lies would yield just a temporary salve … even though lies were all I had to offer now, even to myself.

But this could not go on; far greater matters were at stake. These knots could be untangled later, once we had the leisure to do so. For if we failed … none of this would matter.

I faced them both. “Nothing is more important than stopping Wugang, an impossible task in itself. For what lies ahead, we must be strong, and we are stronger together than apart.” As I rubbed the back of my neck unthinkingly, I flinched from the discomfort of my wounds.

They did not speak at first, finally inclining their heads. “You are hurt. What happened with Lady Xihe?” Liwei asked.

“Old debts repaid. She was merciful.”

“Merciful?” Liwei’s tone twisted in disbelief. “Your wounds run deep.”

“I had to fight the phoenix. It was Lady Xihe’s challenge for the feather.” My chest cramped with the remembrance of her sorrow. “She knew who I was; she could have asked for more. Nine of her children are dead.”

“You did not kill them,” Wenzhi reminded me.

“Nor did she kill me,” I countered.

“How did Lady Xihe find out who you were?” Liwei asked gravely.

My fingers curled at the reminder of his mother’s trickery, but this was not the time to cast blame. Once we had dealt with Wugang, I would not let this pass. “The Sun Goddess knows all within her domain.”

“You were lucky to make it out alive,” Wenzhi said.

“Yes, along with this.” I pulled out the feather, curled in the orb like a fragment of the sun. Flames simmered along its shaft, its tendrils clawing against the barrier. I felt no triumph—rather, an almost unbearable burden to have taken more from those who had lost so much.

“We must get the feather to the laurel. How do we get past Wugang’s soldiers on the moon?” I asked.

“The moon is closely guarded against intrusion,” Liwei warned. “I heard the soldiers speak of this while I was imprisoned—they wondered at the troops sent to secure the place when fewer efforts were taken to protect the Jade Palace.”

My home, in Wugang’s possession. Bitterness gnawed at me as I imagined the Pure Light Palace, so tranquil and peaceful—now at the center of these devastating plots. Another thought struck, one even less welcome. “My lifeforce regenerated so swiftly because of the laurel’s power. What if Wugang’s soldiers are stronger there too? How can we attack them at the heart of their might?”